Elimination Chamber Effects
by NY BrAt 007
Summary: *Chris Jericho & Kane & RVD & HBK & HHH up I'm done!!* This is a set of 6 different stories. Each one will be told from the view of the participants in the Elimination Chamber.
1. Chris Jericho

{A court is in session  
  
{The verdict is in  
  
{No appeal on the docket today  
  
{Just my own sin  
  
  
  
First ever. Revolutionary. Never before seen. Bischoff's own creation. Madison Square Garden. Survivor Series, 2002. The Elimination Chamber.  
  
Chris Jericho glanced at the sign as he walked by, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. He shook his head before resuming his count of the number of cracks on the floor; anything to clear his mind of tonight's match.  
  
His wife had called about twenty minutes ago. "Chris you'd better be careful out there because I'm sitting in the fourth row. I don't know what I'd do if you hurt yourself. That Bischoff is such an ass for putting you in a match like this". He'd tried telling her that it was an honor, but she was quick to dismiss the idea.  
  
There were some papers taped to the door when Chris walked up to his room. He ripped the two sheets down and pulled them open. Inside there were detailed measurements and drawings of "the Chamber". He felt his heart drop in his chest and crumpled the papers up, discarding them as he entered his locker room. He was about to shut the door when someone on the other side caught it with their foot, easing the door open.  
  
"Hey buddy." Kurt Angle said cheerfully, settling himself down on one of the recliners. "What's going on?"  
  
"Trying to get everything together before the match." Chris answered aimlessly, setting his ring wear on the arm of the couch.  
  
Kurt looked up from the magazine he was reading. "That's right, are you nervous?"  
  
Chris rolled his eyes. "No, why would I be nervous having the main event at Survivor Series in" He lowered his voice, finding that somewhere people would start cheering upon hearing the name. "Madison Square Garden?"  
  
"That's a shame." Kurt grumbled, returning to the article before looking up again. "It's not fair. Your GM is inventive and mine is obsessed with Brock Lesnar and the tag-team titles."  
  
"Tough. Do you have any hair bands." Chris trailed off and smirked. "Nevermind, you wouldn't need those, would you?"  
  
Kurt jumped up from the chair. "I get the point. You want me to leave. All you had to do was ask." He reprimanded. "Good luck tonight, I'll be watching."  
  
Chris watched him leave and turned back to face the mirror. That is not the look of a living legend, he scolded himself silently. The bottom of his hair was pink from neglect over the past week and was in dire need of a washing. The small beard on his chin made him queasy and there were bags under his eyes and his face was a nice pale color. He reached over into his bag and pulled out the razor. He uncapped it and shut the door to his bathroom.  
  
{The walls are cold and pale  
  
{The cage made of steel  
  
{Screams fill the room  
  
{Alone I drop and kneel  
  
He came out about half an hour later, a towel secure around his waist. He sidestepped the small red puddle and walked back over to the mirror. He wiped away the steam with an impatient swipe and now glanced at his reflection, feeling a lot better with what stared back at him.  
  
There were still bags under his eyes, but that was nothing that one of the divas couldn't fix. He rubbed his chin and was happy with his decision to shave it all off. All the red/pink had, thankfully, washed out of his hair with no problem and he pulled it back into a loose ponytail before throwing on some sweatpants and going to search for any of the divas.  
  
Chris scanned the empty hallways and wondered briefly if there was a meeting going on that he wasn't aware of. He walked up to the Diva's locker room and knocked lightly and waited for some answer.  
  
"Who's there?" A voice called lightly from inside.  
  
"It's Chris." He replied, waiting for the door to be opened,  
  
It did and Stacy stood in front of him, hands on her hips. She saw who it was and smiled. "What's going on?"  
  
He walked into the room after Stacy checked that everyone was decent and sat down in front of the mirror. "I look like shit." He said simply.  
  
Stacy sat on the counter in front of him and nodded, picking up her make-up bag. "Close your eyes or else it's gonna sting."  
  
"What have you been doing to yourself?" Molly asked, sitting on the chair next to him.  
  
"Practically killing myself getting ready for this match." Chris muttered, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He felt a hand on his shoulder and then heard a reassuring voice.  
  
"You'll be fine." Trish assured. "Hey, you got rid of the red in your hair."  
  
"Yeah, it was a pain in the ass to keep up so I washed it all out." Chris answered, wondering if they had anything better to do then study him.  
  
There was silence and then five minutes later Stacy's voice saying that he was all done.  
  
He opened his eyes and found himself staring straight at the perfect portrait of a living legend. "Thanks Stacy." He complimented, giving her a quick hug. He said goodbye to everyone else and left the room feeling a lot better.  
  
"Hey Chris, good luck!" Stephanie McMahon called to him from the other side of the hall. "Kick some ass for me." She winked and retreated into her office for the night.  
  
Chris grinned and went back to his locker room. He changed into his tights and made sure to tape up his wrists and tie back his hair. Once this was all finished he grabbed the magazine Kurt had discarded and sat back down on the couch. He stretched his legs out in front of him and waited until it was his turn to be called out.  
  
{There's nothing you can say  
  
{Nothing you can do  
  
{Nothing in between  
  
{You know the truth 


	2. Kane

Kay, the second part is up! Yay, I'm doing good with this whole giving myself deadlines. Anyway, something I forgot to mention in chapter 1. The first two sets of lyrics are from Creed's 'My Own Prison' and then the last set is from Our Lady Peace's 'Not Enough'. Phew, just hadta get that out. Enjoy!  
  
{Silence now the sound  
  
{My breath the only motion around  
  
{Demons cluttering around  
  
{My face showing no emotion  
  
  
  
From floor to ceiling. 36 yards wide. Pure steel. No give. 4 cages. Every five minutes. Entirely random.  
  
"Yeah right." Kane scoffed after hearing the description for the millionth time in a week. Everybody knows that it's rigged and everybody knows that it'll break sooner or later. It's going to. It has to. Right?  
  
He nodded to himself in the mirror and secured the mask to his face. He wondered briefly how the other five would cover up the fact that they were scared out of their minds. He had his mask. They had nothing.  
  
"Ya know, anybody can tell when you're thinking so cynically." A voice from behind him cut into his thoughts.  
  
"And why is that?" Kane asked without having to turn around. He didn't need to. From the voice he could tell that it was the Hurricane.  
  
"You get this almost evil look on your face." He answered.  
  
"But I'm wearing a mask."  
  
The Hurricane grinned as he stood next to him. "Then you need to get a new mask because that one's freaking me out."  
  
"This is definitely what I need right now." Kane muttered. "A guy who reads comic books telling me that I need a new mask."  
  
"They're educational." He tried defensively as Kane began pacing around the locker room they shared. "Um Kane, you wanna sit down? You're kinda making me sick."  
  
"I'm making myself sick." Kane grumbled, forcing himself to sit down.  
  
The Hurricane looked around the room a minute and turned back when he heard the sighing. "Hey big guy, don't worry. You're going to do fine." He thought quickly. "So who are you going to go after first?"  
  
"First person I can get my hands on." Was his immediate response.  
  
"Okay." The Hurricane responded, letting out his breath slowly. "Wouldn't want to be in the chamber with you; that's all I gotta say."  
  
"I think that was kinda a compliment." Kane responded. There was silence, then: "Shane, do you think I could have some time to myself?"  
  
"Not a problem. Good luck out there and be careful." He instructed before leaving the room.  
  
Kane nodded to the closed door and got up slowly. He sidestepped the action figures and comic books and made his way over to the mirror that hung almost crookedly above the sink on the wall.  
  
{Shackled by my sentence  
  
{Expecting no return  
  
{Here there is no penance  
  
{My skin begins to burn  
  
He unsnapped his mask from the back and lifted it up slowly. He started from the top corner and took it off. Little by little his face was beginning to show. He removed it completely and set it on the sink and looked at his reflection.  
  
There was nothing actually wrong with it. No burns, or even a scar he noted silently. He may have had shadows around his eyes and his skin was paler then normal, but nothing out of the ordinary.  
  
Kane splashed some cold water on his face and dried it off completely before carefully putting his mask back on.  
  
This is going to be the match of a lifetime. The number one match of 2002, hell maybe even the decade. No doubt about it. But of course people were bound to get hurt, wasn't that always a given. Be it Hunter with his knee or Shawn with his back, someone was going to be leaving the Madison Square Garden ring on a stretcher.  
  
But not me, Kane decided. All six of them have been training for this match for the past couple of weeks. They went over the moves and sequences hundreds of times with Bischoff and the trainers so that nothing would go wrong.  
  
"But it always does." Kane muttered out loud. He knew that it was morbid thinking on his part but he couldn't help it. He was a morbid person. Actually, that wasn't true either. Well, maybe he was a little, but not so to the point where he'd be doing stuff like wearing all black and slitting his wrists. That was just creepy.  
  
He looked up as there was a knock on the door and was about to tell them to go away when it opened, revealing a very small and timid looking Terri.  
  
"Can I come in?" She asked cautiously.  
  
"Sure."  
  
She stepped into the messy room and took one look at him when she got a worried look on her face. "Are you alright? You look like you're ready to faint at any given moment." He didn't answer and she took his by the arm and led him over to the couch. "Sit down." He did. "Now talk to me."  
  
"About what?" Kane asked, feeling slightly confused over the whole situation.  
  
"Anything you want." Terri responded, holding her arms out, palms up. "Anything you want to get off your chest? Worries about tonight? Worries about anything in general?" She supplied. "I mean hell, even if ya wanna talk about what's going on in the Federation, well I'm up to that too."  
  
He gave her a small smile and she motioned for him to let it out. "Alright, I am worried about the match tonight. I don' t want anything to go wrong because it would be devastating for any six of us. I don't want to be the cause of anyone's mishap either because then that's something I'd have to live with."  
  
"But stuff has happened in the past and you haven't dwelled on that." He remained silent. "Honey, please don't tell me that you dwell on every single thing that goes wrong that you were involved with."  
  
"A little."  
  
Terri gave him a motherly look that clearly read he was in trouble. "Do you realize how not letting everything out isn't very healthy for you?"  
  
"Thanks Dr. Terri." Kane muttered sarcastically.  
  
"I'm just trying to help you out here." Terri responded evenly, putting her hands on her hips. "Besides, I really don't want you to go out there and be a madman."  
  
"Why?" Kane countered.  
  
She smiled. "Because then there goes the other top five superstars that Raw has to offer." She looked down as her pager began to beep and looked at him apologetically. "I have to go." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him briefly on the cheek. "Don't be afraid to let it out and you'll do fine." She assured. "I'll see you after."  
  
He nodded and watched as she left the room. Sighing, he walked back over to the mirror and punched it as hard as he could, sending shards of glass flying over everything.  
  
"There." He muttered. "It's all out."  
  
  
  
{Nothing left to face  
  
{Nothing left to lose  
  
{Nothing takes your place  
  
  
  
Read and Review please. I'm trying to type this w/ my dog lounged on my lap; it's hard. Here's the schedule of who's coming out when:  
  
Monday: Chris Jericho  
  
Tuesday: Kane  
  
Wednesday: Rob Van Dam  
  
Thursday: Booker T  
  
Friday: Shawn Michaels  
  
Saturday: Triple H  
  
Sunday: A little ending chapter.  
  
So there ya go. Now you know when to expect what! 


	3. RVD

Okay, so I lied. I said that all the parts were going to be out every day and I lied. I'm not good with deadlines and school has got me stressed. My computer hasn't been working either, so, that probably added to it. But they will all be up by Sunday night before the PPV, I promise that. Just enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
RVD  
  
{So I held my head up high  
  
{Hiding hate that burns inside  
  
{Which only fuels their selfish pride  
  
No one knows the real me. For real. I am human after all people. Not everything is always "cool" and "calm"; what a crock let me tell you. Whoever's idea it was to make me Mr. Cool Laid-back Dude should get shot. Everyone else gets to have fun switching from good to bad and back again and I stay the fan favorite.  
  
Now don't get me wrong. I love the fans. I do this for the fans (and money) and without them there would be no RVD. So I guess I owe it to them. Damn.  
  
*Bam*  
  
RVD was jarred from his thoughts by the slam of a locker right near his head. He found himself ready to calm the other person down but he just shrugged it off, not wanting to be sucked in by his in-ring persona.  
  
Al Snow stood glowering and his gaze shifted to Rob, who was looking down at his hands. "What's your problem?"  
  
"Noth-" He cut himself off. "Fuck it. Just some stuff on my mind."  
  
"Did the all-cool RVD just swear at me?" Al laughed.  
  
"It was his sad attempt." RVD answered. "I hate my character. I wish he would die."  
  
Al's eyes widened. "You know they have doctors who you can have these kind of conversations with. If you pay me some money I'll be sure to try and pick up on the art."  
  
RVD rolled his eyes at the man's lame attempt at humor. "Wasn't that on Frasier before?"  
  
"I think it was the Simpsons."  
  
"Eh, same thing."  
  
Al laughed. "Sure, whatever you say. So how's everything going with you in general? I mean, besides you wanting to kill your alter-ego and everything."  
  
RVD shrugged. "It's alright I guess. I can't wait for the match tonight."  
  
"Ah yes, you gotta love the whole revolutionary, never before seen mystery surrounding the chamber." Al joked.  
  
"You're just jealous." Rob supplied.  
  
Al rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I've had my own TV show for the past three seasons. Boy am I jealous of you."  
  
"So I should just quit while I was ahead?" Rob asked.  
  
"Yeah." Al nodded. "That would probably be wise on your part."  
  
{Should have been dead on a Sunday morning  
  
{Banging my head  
  
{No time for mourning  
  
{Ain't got no time  
  
Once Al Snow had finally went in search of someone else to bother, RVD had gotten up and left the locker room. He had to see this thing for himself. There had been pictures, but there was no way it was going to be a surprise. He made his way down the hall and glanced to his left to see Chris Jericho quickly duck into the Diva's locker room.  
  
"People have different ways of calming down I guess." Rob said to himself quietly, taking a right at the corner. He dodged out of sight of Eric Bischoff, who was strictly forbidding anyone from seeing the chamber a head of time and waited until he was out of sight to get back on track. He approached the curtain with no trouble until he was stopped by one of the security.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Up there." Rob pointed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
The guard shook his head. "Now I have strict orders from Mr. Bischoff. Nobody is allowed up there until show time."  
  
"Do you know how fast I could kick your ass right now and nobody would have the slightest clue, or care for that matter, because you're just a hired security guard?" Rob questioned evenly.  
  
"But I have-"  
  
"He'll forgive you." Rob cut in, pushing past the guard and walking up the stairs. He heard the guy's quiet protests and kept walking past the curtain so he could get a look at this thing himself. He walked to the edge of the top of the ramp and sat down, putting his legs over the side that had yet to be put up.  
  
The structure was being put up as he sat there. Piece of steel after piece of steel. It all kept going up until it seemed halfway done and the workers left for a break.  
  
Rob looked around to make sure no one was watching and jumped down and began walking towards the chamber. He reached it in about ten steps and stood staring up at the nearly completed death trap and felt a chill go up the back of his spine.  
  
"It is impressive." Stephanie McMahon commented, coming to a stop next to him.  
  
He nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"Kinda wish I had been the one to think of it, but what the hell. How are you holding up?" She asked with a sincere look on concern on her face.  
  
"Okay I guess." He shrugged.  
  
"I know you too well and I know that you're lying."  
  
"Damn, you caught on." He deadpanned, not able to keep his gaze off the steel.  
  
"You know, I could say that Stacy was walking up behind you naked and you still wouldn't be able to tear your gaze away from that thing, would you?" She said sarcastically.  
  
He nodded. "Probably. It's just amazing."  
  
They saw the workers coming back and hurried to some seats a couple of rows back so they could still keep up on the progress.  
  
"Hey Steph, can I ask you something?"  
  
"You can ask." She grinned. "Doesn't necessarily mean that I'm going to answer."  
  
"It's nothing like that." He assured.  
  
Stephanie shrugged. "Sure, why the hell not then."  
  
He took a deep breath. "How come, when you and Bischoff were competing for the best wrestlers, I was never a factor and you never tried to get me on Smackdown?"  
  
She opened her mouth, and then closed it again slowly. "I... honestly thought that the best place to develop your talents would be on Raw because they have the better talent." She confessed. "Now what makes you want to know that?"  
  
"Just curious I guess."  
  
Stephanie smiled. "Now can I ask you something?"  
  
Rob looked at her warily. "Sure."  
  
"Are you going to win tonight?"  
  
"I'm going to try."  
  
"You're not going to win anything with an attitude like that." Stephanie instructed with a grin. "I know you're going to win, and now you need to know that you're going to win."  
  
Rob smiled for the first time in a couple of days. "You're right, I am going to win."  
  
  
  
{When they say  
  
{You're not that strong  
  
{Well you're not that weak  
  
{It's not your fault  
  
  
  
Booker T is coming at ya next! 


	4. Booker T

I'm trying to get these finished before tomorrow. Shawn Michaels and Triple H are probably going to be the longest chapters because they're the most complex (involved?) out of the six. Look for the sometime before 7:30 EST. I promise promise, triple promise that they'll be done. Read and Review!  
  
  
  
{I cry out to God  
  
{Seeking only his decision  
  
{Gabriel stands and confirms  
  
{I created my own prison  
  
  
  
"Let me tell you, I did not want to be put into this match."  
  
"So why'd you agree to it then?"  
  
There was a pause, and then: "Because it's the main event at Survivor Series. I would have been insane not to do it."  
  
"Plan on doing the Spin-A-Rooni for the crowd?"  
  
"Inside something that's more dangerous then a Hell in the Cell? You have got to be kidding me."  
  
Test laughed. "I think the audience would appreciate it."  
  
"I'm sure they would." Booker T sighed. "How about I do it only if I win?"  
  
"You got yourself a deal." Test glanced around the lounge at the other people wasting time and then turned back to his friend. "Did you see when they were brining in the-"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And how about all the-"  
  
"I saw all that too."  
  
"And the title that Bischoff insists he has to carry around for safe keeping?"  
  
Booker T smiled almost wistfully and nodded. "You saw those too?"  
  
Test laughed. "Man you are so pathetic. But I shouldn't be saying anything because you get a title shot and I don't even know what I have."  
  
"You have Stacy." Booker T pointed out all too quickly. "I wouldn't start complaining about something like that. You're the luckiest guy in the whole damn company."  
  
"Well, you do have a point there." Test trailed off. "Yeah, you're right. You can have your World Heavyweight Title. I got her. And I'll see you later then. Good luck if I don't see you before the match though."  
  
He nodded after his friend and watched the people as they walked in and out of the small room and thought of the days leading up to this single crowning moment.  
  
Monday he had been on Raw, naturally. He couldn't even remember the match he was in, if there was one at all. There was this feeling of being nervous, but not really feeling nervous; if that made any sense. Booker T had been wary to meet up with any of the other five combatants and they had done the same with him.  
  
The next couple of days, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, he had gone back home for a quick rest. His niece and nephew had wanted to see his move every chance they got, and even attempted to do it on there own. He spent the days sleeping in until noon and eating all the home cooked meals that his heart desired. Thursday evening had come around way too quickly.  
  
His niece, Tanya, had been the last person to wish him good luck before he boarded the plane for New York City. She had made him kneel down so they were eye level and made him close his eyes.  
  
"Uncle Book, you can open your eyes now." She insisted after a couple of moments.  
  
Booker T opened his eyes to find her holding out a ring for him. It looked like it had cost twenty-five cents out of a supermarket machine, but she had the proudest look on her face. "Honey, what's this?"  
  
"It's for you." She announced proudly, taking his hand and shoving the ring down on his pinky finger.  
  
"And why is it for me?"  
  
"Because Mommy said the match you're going into Sunday is very dangerous and I wanted to give it to you for good luck." Tanya explained. "I just know that you're going to win." She added, her face glowing.  
  
{All held captive  
  
{Out from the sun  
  
{A sun that shines on only some  
  
{We the meek are all in one  
  
He managed to tear himself away from his family in time to make the flight and once he was all settled, looked at the ring Tanya had given him.  
  
It was a cheap metal with gold paint. The paint had begun to chip away on the back but in the center was a blue/green plastic oval held in place by some glue.  
  
That ring was his most treasured possession as of right now.  
  
Despite the fact that most of the guys had teased and tormented him non- stop since seeing him Friday morning, he had ignored them and kept on with his training, desperate to make the Elimination Chamber match the best one of his career.  
  
Sunday morning had come around then, meaning the autograph sessions and meet and greets and everything else that came with the territory of being a superstar.  
  
Terri and Trish had come up to him and insisted on seeing his ring and hearing the story behind it. They had nearly melted when he told them about Tanya, and then one of the trainers had overheard and insisted that he put tape over the ring to prevent it from causing an accident.  
  
"What the hell can that thing possibly do?" Trish argued on his behalf.  
  
The trainer held up his hands in surrender. "I don't make the rules, I just follow them to keep food on the table."  
  
"Fair enough." Terri muttered, but still looked enchanted when Booker T had began to mess around with the ring. "You're going to break it." She reprimanded.  
  
He looked up quickly. "Why are you guys so interested in this thing?" He asked.  
  
Trish grinned. "Because out of the whole time I've been in this company, that is the sweetest thing I've heard someone do for one of their relatives."  
  
"She's my niece." He argued.  
  
Terri laughed before walking away with Trish. "She's still related."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Booker T muttered, watching as they retreated to their room. He glanced down at the ring on his pinky and smiled at the thought of his niece as he heard his name being called. "This is for you."  
  
{When you climb up to that hill  
  
{Up to your place  
  
{I hope you're well  
  
  
  
Shawn Michaels and then Triple H will finish this out! 


	5. Shawn Michaels

Blah! It's here. Survivor Series isn't over yet. I'm not late!  
  
  
  
{I hear a thunder in the distance  
  
{See a vision of a cross  
  
{I feel the pain that was given  
  
{On that sad day of loss  
  
  
  
"Daddy, you're going to be alright, aren't you?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"Because I remember the last match you were in you won but Paul beat you up and then you had to go to the doctors and then you couldn't walk for a couple of weeks but then you showed up on TV again and got into more fights and then-"  
  
Shawn stopped his son's barrage of questions and tried not to laugh. "How did you get so smart all of a sudden?"  
  
Andy shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"Fair enough." Shawn sighed, looking over his stuff to make sure he had everything packed.  
  
"So why can't I go with you?"  
  
Shawn knelt down so he was at eye level with his son and looked at him seriously. "With Mommy being out of town, she made me promise that I'd leave you with Aunt Beth to be safe."  
  
"You don't think anyone would want to see me backstage?"  
  
"That's not the point." Shawn answered with a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his already disheveled hair. "The point is that I promised your mom something and we all know how she gets if I don't follow up."  
  
Any nodded solemnly. "Yeah, Mommy does get scary." He bit his nail and then looked back at his dad. "Will you tell Trish I said hi?"  
  
"Of course." Shawn said, knowing how much of a crush his eight-year-old son had on the diva. Twenty minutes later he had dropped Andy off at his aunt's house and made it to the airport in record time.  
  
{A lion roars in the darkness  
  
{Only he holds the key  
  
{A light to free me from my burden  
  
{And grant me life eternally  
  
"Trish, Andy says hi." Shawn called over his shoulder at the blonde.  
  
"Did he?" She replied, a smile on her face. "That is so sweet."  
  
He laughed and shook his head. "You need to get your own kid and stop obsessing over mine."  
  
"But he's just so cute." Trish said wistfully.  
  
"Thank you, I tried my best." Shawn answered with a laugh, finding his way to his dressing room with no problem.  
  
Waiting for him on the table was a pile of letters, gifts, and flowers. He looked at them curiously for a minute before sitting down on the couch and picking up the first one.  
  
Shawn: Best of luck in your match tonight. I just know that you'll be able to beat the other five. Don't let anyone get you down and you're going to do fine. :Terri  
  
"Oh, so the other superstars feel it appropriate to be wishing me good luck." He said aloud, reading the next couple of letters from Rey Mysterio and Edge, Maven, and Brock Lesnar, surprisingly enough.  
  
Once getting through about half the pile, he decided it was time to get ready for the match that would change his life forever. He was about to get into the shower when his cell phone went off, the ring piercing the otherwise quiet room. "Hello?"  
  
"Daddy?" was the staticy reply.  
  
He grinned. "Andy, shouldn't you be in bed?"  
  
"Aunt Beth said that she would order the match for me."  
  
"Get Aunt Beth on the phone please." Shawn said tersely.  
  
There was a minute of silence, and then his sister-in-law came on the phone. "What's going on Shawn?"  
  
He rubbed his hands over his face. "Liz, there is now way that you can order Survivor Series for Andy."  
  
"Why not? He wants to see it. I'm not going to deny him something that he wants. You know I can't say no to him."  
  
"Can you try? I don't want him seeing it. I'll have someone tape it and then we can watch it when I get home, but I have no idea what's going to happen and I don't want to get seriously hurt and not be there for him when he sees it and then he might panic and-"  
  
"Fine Shawn." She cut in. "Fine, I won't order it for him. I should let you get going. Good luck."  
  
"Thank you." He hung up the phone and pulled on a t-shirt before going to find someone to tape it for him. He didn't want his son to miss the biggest match of his life.  
  
{There's nothing left to prove  
  
{Nothing I won't do  
  
{Nothing like the pain  
  
{I feel for you 


	6. Triple H

Okay, last out of six parts! Hope you guys enjoy, sorry about the delay!  
  
{Should have been dead on a Sunday morning  
  
{Banging my head  
  
{No time for mourning  
  
{Ain't got no time  
  
  
  
He put his feet on the chair in front of him, staring out at the now empty arena which would be filled with fans in a couple of hours. They had already been waiting outside when he arrived, five in the morning, and as soon as he stepped out of the limo they had cheered. And that had made him feel good; to know that even though he was "bad" he still had some sort of a fan base. He put his best friend in the hospital after nearly crippling him, but they laughed when he played ventriloquist with that damn dummy.  
  
Kane and the Hurricane and God knows everyone else wasn't happy with that whole angle, but who cares? It was meant to be humorous. There was a warning at the beginning of the segment.  
  
Triple H shook his head; sometimes he really didn't understand people. Not even people in general, pretty much just the people that had to do with the production of the company.  
  
There was Eric Bischoff, who Triple H hated with every fiber of his being. The man can just waltz in the company after trying to destroy it a couple of years ago, hand him the title and think everything was okay? Well the whole just handing him the title thing had been cool; he had to admit that. But there were people backstage who weren't happy about that either. 'It wasn't fair', they whined. 'He doesn't deserve it', they complained. What does it take to make anyone in this company happy?  
  
"Nobody's happy until they see someone get hurt." A voice next to him said quietly.  
  
"What the hell do you want?" Triple H muttered.  
  
Torrie Wilson sat next to him and shrugged. "You looked like you needed someone to talk to."  
  
Triple H shook his head. "No, not really. You can go backstage and do whatever it is you do, terrorize Dawn Marie or something."  
  
"That girl thinks she's so-" Torrie cut herself off. "No, that's not the point. Why are you so rude to everybody?"  
  
"Because everyone is rude to me." Triple H said bluntly.  
  
Torrie looked at him and grinned before sitting back in the seat. "That's not true. You just never give anyone a chance to get to know you."  
  
"I let Stephanie get to know me and we all saw how well that turned out for me."  
  
"That's different though." Torrie argued. "Stephanie was," She stopped and choose her words carefully. "She was just being manipulated by her father the whole time. I think she did love you at one point, but you never gave her a chance. Especially after the whole pregnancy thing, you didn't give her a chance to explain herself. She was upset about-"  
  
"I do not need this right now." Triple H exploded loudly, drawing attention to the two of them. "You have no idea what happened between the two of us and look at you; your father is getting married to this twenty- some year old and you can't accept that and have to get all pouty and bratty about it."  
  
Torrie stood up and drew herself to her full height and glared at the man nearly two times her size. 'What I said about you and Stephanie may not have been any of my business, but she's my friend and came to me when she was upset. You, on the other hand." She jabbed her index finger in his chest. "You have no right to say what you did. You don't know anything about the situation and therefore should not be making any assumptions about it." She snapped, spinning around and stalking away.  
  
"Dumb blonde." Triple H muttered.  
  
"I heard that asshole." She threw over her shoulder.  
  
He looked up in surprise at the blonde's response. "She has some guts." He marveled, picking up his cell phone as it went off. "Hello?"  
  
  
  
{I cry out to God  
  
{Seeking only his decision  
  
{Gabriel stands and confirms  
  
{I created my own prison  
  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, after getting off the phone with his mom, he stuck it back into his bag and pulled the bag over his shoulder. He took one last look at the chamber and felt a twinge of envy when he saw his ex-wife and RVD sitting in the third row in front of the chamber, looking like they were in serous conversation.  
  
He brushed it off and walked backstage and past the lounge. As soon as he passed by, talking stopped in the room. He looked in and saw Torrie, looking very upset, talking with a group of about five other girls. They all gave him the dirtiest look and he backed away slowly.  
  
"Damn." He muttered, throwing his stuff on the floor.  
  
Ric Flair was waiting on the couch for him and he looked up as soon as Triple H entered the room.  
  
"What the hell are you doing in here?" Triple H demanded, staring at the older man.  
  
He grinned. "I wanted to go over some strategy with-"  
  
"Get the fuck out of my dressing room. I don't wanna go over strategy with you. Where the hell would you get that idea?" Triple H snapped, pretty much throwing Flair out of his room. He opened his mouth to say something and slammed the door in response. "Where does that guy get the nerve?" He muttered, pulling back his hair into a ponytail.  
  
He warmed up for about fifteen minutes and heard his name being paged over the intercom. "Time to go." He whispered, grabbing his bottle of water. He locked the door behind him and started walking towards the curtain. He passed the lounge and Torrie was still sitting there, this time without accompaniment. He knew he would kick himself for doing this, but he walked in and sat down next to her.  
  
"Get away from me." She said, not even looking up from the book she was reading.  
  
"I probably deserved that." He started and she nodded. "But I just wanted to apologize for saying the stuff I did about you and your family."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"That's all you're going to say back?" Triple H asked incredulously.  
  
She shrugged. "I don't have anything to say to you."  
  
"But I just apologized."  
  
"Yes." She said slowly. "Civil people do that. You must have been a mistake."  
  
Triple H stood up and glowered down at her. "I came in here to be polite to you and apologize for acting like a complete jackass towards you, and all you can do is patronize me?"  
  
"I'm surprised you even know what that means." She said dryly, still not bothering to be daunted by his size.  
  
"Okay fine, I don't have to take this." Triple H snapped. "I'm sorry, that's all. Now if you excuse me, I have a match."  
  
Torrie looked up as he began walking out the room and set her book down. "Thank you Paul." She replied.  
  
He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. "What?"  
  
She smiled. "Thank you for the apology. Now good luck with your match."  
  
  
  
{Nothing left to hide  
  
{Nothing left to fear  
  
{I am always here  
  
Yay, I'm done, I finished a six-chapter story in a week. Sorry they weren't out when promised, but I've been busy! Keep watch for a new chapter to 'Girl I Left Behind' which should be up next week. Later!  
  
*FallenAngel* 


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